


I Wouldn't Have Nothin' If I Didn't Have You

by showmeurteef



Category: EXO (Band), NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Coming on Face, Fingering, First Date, Insecurity, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Praise Kink, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Lubrication, a mild monsterfuck, body worship a bit, bug monster taeyong, cuttlefish monster baek, hero worship a bit, i guess i just like taeyong, mild tentacle sex, monsters inc au, monsters inc canon typical food & creatures, much sweeter than i intended, ocean as metaphor, slimy hands, taeyong is probably roz's nephew, title from The monsters inc song, yeah as in the 2001 disneypixar animated film
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:54:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26448133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/showmeurteef/pseuds/showmeurteef
Summary: Inhale, exhale. Like his usual self. An ordinary monster. Who knows how to breathe. Who isn’t, at all, not even a bit, head-over-heels in love with the top scarer at Monsters, Inc.bugboy taeyong can't hide his sappy, gross, ooey-gooey crush (n baek wouldn't have it any other way)extended/explained warnings within - including a description of their monster forms to see if it's too much body horror for u !
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 14
Kudos: 35





	I Wouldn't Have Nothin' If I Didn't Have You

**Author's Note:**

> warnings/explanations:  
> \- the tentacle sex occurs when baek gives taeyong a blowjob with his mouth full of small tentacles  
> \- no lube as taeyong's fingers are already slimy  
> \- the premise here is taeyong is baek's fan , but that one sided dynamic develops/goes away as the fic goes on. pls be careful if that sort of thing makes u uncomfortable  
> -baek monster: inspired by cuttlefish. cuttlefish eyes (squiggly pupils, kinda iridescent), skin that changes color like a mood ring on his face, short stubby tentacles in his mouth  
> -taeyong monster: inspired by various bugs. antennae on his head, hands that secrete slug-like slime, beetle-like wings on his back
> 
> please lmk if u need any other tws/cws !

_"Shhh!_ Shut up, shut up, _shut up!_ ” Taeyong hisses. He’s been clinging to Ten’s arm for dear life since he first heard that his and Ten’s scare floor schedule overlapped with _his_ , and now that _his_ cartoonish giggle is rounding the corner and bursting through the entrance, Taeyong’s shaking Ten’s scrawny arm like it belongs to a particularly mistreated rag doll. He’d feel bad for being so rough with his bird-boned friend, but— “He’s _here_ . Baek... _Him_.”

Taeyong misses the weary look Ten gives him because he’s _far_ too busy attempting to steady his breathing. Inhale, exhale. Like his usual self. An ordinary monster. Who knows how to breathe. Who isn’t, at all, not even a _bit_ , head-over-heels in love with the top scarer at Monsters, Inc. With _him_.

Said top scarer and his friends —who Taeyong is certain must be the luckiest, happiest monsters to ever exist— are drawing ever closer. The fall of talons and tentacles and paws echoes throughout the massive space. A hush falls over the rest of the workers— Taeyong isn’t the only one who’s awestruck by the mere sight of the top scarer.

“Yeah, yeah. I see him,” Ten sighs, struggling to peel Taeyong’s hands off of their arm with their talons. “Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun. Light blue hard hat perched on a head of glossy brown hair, feathery strands that frame quick eyes. Squiggly pupils that survey _his_ scare floor, cuttlefish skin that puckers and warbles around a million different hues. He walks like he just _knows_ where he’s going and that he’ll _get there._ Taeyong sighs. Smiles. And, then, he realizes the grave mistake that Ten’s just made.

“Don’t say his name! What the— _shhh!_ What if he _hears?_ ” Taeyong’s eyes do snap back to Ten to send a sharp glare their way, but land right back on Baekhyun the moment that more laughter bursts from his little squad. The blue pattern on Baekhyun’s face glitters like pearls tossed back into the ocean when he laughs. Taeyong inhales sharply.

“For real, let go. You’re getting all clammy,” Ten grumbles.

Taeyong releases them with a stern look, to which Ten only rolls their eyes in response. He looks down at his hands and, sure enough, his squishy palms are coated in a thin layer of iridescent green ooze. His stomach twists. His antennae twitch. 

He and Baekhyun rarely cross paths, and Taeyong has only thought of the one time they exchanged more than polite greetings once or twice or three times a day since it happened. It was a simple workplace interaction: Taeyong had helped Baekhyun load a cart of scream canisters because Baekhyun was running behind, and Taeyong’s wings make for quick loading. That’s all. 

Back then, Taeyong hadn’t thought much of the interaction —he was a naive, rookie scarer who hadn’t yet grasped the prestige that comes from even being seen with Baekhyun, let alone _working_ with him. Now, however, he’s a goddamn mess at the mere sight of him. Hands practically dripping with greenish ooze. So gross, so _embarrassing_. 

Waternoose’s obvious favoritism is actually a blessing in disguise, since it allows Taeyong to hang so low on the scarer ladder that he hardly sees Baekhyun standing up top. Taeyong doesn’t have to worry about acting like any ordinary monster without a massive crush on Baekhyun every time that he works the scare floor because he and Ten almost never share shifts with his scaring senior, role model, crush— 

“You’ve been staring at me, haven’t you?”

Taeyong goes rigid. Eyes unblinking, lungs frozen. His antennae twitch and his wings buzz against his back. Nervous. The skin of his palms contracts around cold flesh and bone, another coat of nervous ooze gathering just below. Ever so slowly, he lifts his eyes and finds _him_. 

_“Baekhyun.”_

It’s rude to ignore Baekhyun’s question, but this is _Baekhyun._ He’s _right here._ His little round cheeks push into his silvery eyes, and their W-shaped pupils reflect _Taeyong_. 

Taeyong looks around helplessly for Ten, but the traitor is nowhere to be seen. They probably flapped away as soon as Baekhyun arrived, marooning their work husband on the unexplored shores of Baekhyun Island, just as a slimy storm blows in. Taeyong tries to envision calming ocean waves and a scoop of centipede sorbet, but just ends up feeling kinda seasick.

“Yeah, that’s me.” He laughs lightly, and Taeyong holds his breath. “And you’re Taeyong, right?”

Baekhyun knows his name. He’s remembered his name since their one, even semi-meaningful interaction. He _knows_ who Taeyong _is_. 

The skin of Taeyong’s hands thickens and warms. This is bad. Really bad. His bug genes make him do plenty of gross things, but the slug skin ick is the worst of it. He can’t hide it — _especially_ when it’s the thick, nervous kind— but he also doesn’t want Baekhyun to notice it. Taeyong can’t stomach the thought of forever being known to such a legendary scarer as that one weird, slimy dude who so _obviously_ has a crush on him. He can’t.

But, then, Baekhyun _laughs,_ and the bug bits of Taeyong’s brain hum with the urge to make him laugh again _._

Taeyong nods. Feet planted firmly on the ground and folded wings taut against his back.

“Right, well, _Taeyong_...” Baekhyun pauses, openly grinning at the way Taeyong’s eyes widen. 

It’s so obvious that Taeyong’s hanging on Baekhyun’s every word, his every tiny motion, but Taeyong can’t find it in himself to care. Maybe his senses of self-preservation and propriety are leaking out along with his slime, but this very well might be his _only_ up-close and personal interaction with Baekhyun, and he doesn’t intend to miss one bit of it. Being remembered as some weird, slimy dude won’t be so bad, if it means that he gets to talk to Baekhyun for a second or two longer.

“This is a little awkward ‘cause we’ve never _really_ spoken before, but...” Baekhyun places his hands on his hips, thumbs hooking into his belt loop. “I’ve caught you looking at me a couple times now, and I’ve also been... I was wondering if you were busy tonight? After work?”

Taeyong shivers and wills his wings to stay put. Pearly green _oozes_ out over his hands. He scrunches his eyes shut— what would be such a tiny, embarrassed action is quadrupled in awfulness and obviousness by the _squelch_ of the slime releasing. He waits for Baekhyun to say nevermind, to laugh, to walk away. But he... _doesn’t?_

“Are... Are you _sure?_ ”

“Well, yeah? There’s no pressure if you’re busy, but—”

“No— _Never_. I’ve never been busy— I...” Taeyong babbles and lurches forward to catch one of Baekhyun’s hands in his own because _shaking Baekhyun’s hand_ with his own slimy one is obviously the right choice to make here.

He really hopes Ten isn’t watching him from the sidelines— he’d _never_ live this interaction down. From wherever Ten’s perched, Taeyong probably looks a whole lot like those squealing scarer fans that crowd around outside Monsters’ Inc. whenever new Scare Cards are released —the only real difference between Taeyong and them is that he purchases his Scare Cards with a Waternoose-approved paycheck. 

He tries to cover up the gross, wet noise that his skin makes against Baekhyun’s own perfectly dry hand with more babbling that culminates in a: “I’m free. Not busy. Not tonight.”

“Perfect.” Baekhyun’s fingers stretch over the back of Taeyong’s hand, spreading the ooze as they go. It’s a tiny motion —he’s probably just trying to get a better grip, it’s probably an accident— but then Baekhyun _squeezes._ And Baekhyun _smiles_. “It’s a date.”

* * *

“Would it make you more or less nervous if I told you that I can tell how nervous you are?”

Taeyong’s chopsticks drop from his slippery fingers and clatter against the table loudly enough to be heard over the Friday-night din of Harryhausen’s. Taeyong considers zipping away on his scrawny wings, and blaming the whole incident on some evil doppelganger once he’s forced to face Baekhyun back on the scare floor Monday morning. 

“Your orders, folks.” The tentacled waitress deposits steaming bowls of eyeball skewers and heaping plates of flytraps. It’s all _way_ more impressive and _way_ more expensive than Taeyong’s usual takeout dinner fare, but what really grabs Taeyong’s attention is the concerned look Baekhyun sends him. Eyebrows crinkled, orange skin puckered. 

It’s that sort of dizzying gesture that keeps Taeyong from fleeing, from holding out for just one more second of Baekhyun’s face and laughter and voice and _everything_. He’s _sweet_. Taeyong’s antennae droop in an embarrassing mixture of embarrassment and endearment, but mostly embarrassment. The waitress gives Taeyong a look weary enough to rival the one that Ten gave him when Taeyong relayed the news of his _date_ with _Baekhyun_.

“So, more nervous then?” Baekhyun raises a brow and collects Taeyong’s fallen chopsticks. A legendary scarer should at least throw the chopsticks out the window with an evil laugh at Taeyong’s expense, but, instead, he offers them back to Taeyong in his open palm. He’s _so_ sweet. To _Taeyong_. 

“Yeah, I guess so.” With an awkward, breathy laugh, Taeyong wipes his hands on his pants, accepts his chopsticks, and holds his breath as he attempts to pick up a flytrap without incident. One chopstick around it's pulsating stem, then another. Easy. He can do this. He may not have ever been _this_ close to Baekhyun for _this_ long, or ever known that Baekhyun prefers flytraps to worms, or ever witnessed Baekhyun’s friendliness extend to complete strangers like the waiter, or— 

Taeyong clears his throat. A lot of this is new, but eating isn’t new. He can do this. 

The flytrap gnashes its teeth desperately, pitifully. Taeyong mutters an apology before downing it in one bite, too worried about avoiding further embarrassment to really savor the strange, meaty taste. Baekhyun starts eating after he does, with a smile so soft it almost seems sad. 

For a second, Taeyong thinks the flytrap might be crawling back up his throat. But, no, that’s just thick, gloopy fondness. To quote Ten, he’s 'got it so painfully bad— how the fuck is Baekhyun gonna make it through the night?'

“I’ll tell you what: if you wanna leave at any point, I’ll cover for you. If anyone asks, I’ll say you were called into some urgent bug conference, or something. Deal?” Baekhyun’s squiggly pupils twinkle in the restaurant’s moody lighting. Taeyong’s antennae tickle his scalp as they shiver with relief. 

“Deal.”

He fully expects to take Baekhyun up on the offer, but, bizarrely, he never does. He doesn’t fly away, his wings stay neatly folded over his back. The date’s just laughter. Quick gestures. The occasional odd, soft look thrown Taeyong’s way. It’s _easy._

Baekhyun might be acting like this because he pities Taeyong for how obviously eager he is, and Baekhyun might want to make this one night with a scaring celebrity special for the scaring nobody, but the navy shades that gather around his eyes with every one of those odd looks stall Taeyong’s thoughts a bit. Not that Taeyong can’t really read fish monster behavior —he can hardly understand the sensitive responses of his own insect bits— but it means something. It makes him feel something.

Taeyong shakes his head, dizzy with wishful thinking.

“Do you wanna...” Baekhyun dances a finger around the lip of his long-empty bowl. Catches a bit of broth. Brings it to his plush bottom lip. 

Taeyong redirects his attention to a positively _enthralling_ crack in the wooden table. He hums for Baekhyun to continue, corralling his thoughts and willing his wings to hold still.

“Do you wanna go back to my place?”

Taeyong resists the urge to stick a cold, damp pinky in his ear and fish out the gobs of old slime that _must_ be making him hear things incorrectly. 

“Huh?” He looks up, and Baekhyun’s finger is blessedly lowered from his mouth, but his entire face is drawn up in a devilish, sideways grin. Taeyong didn’t mishear a damn thing, but he thinks he might prefer the disgusting ear gobs to _this_. He squeaks, “Me?”

“No.” Baekhyun laughs and rolls his eyes, giving Taeyong’s clenched hand a little pat. “I wanna go home with that leftover bit of eyeball on your plate. Yes, _you_.”

Taeyong swallows thickly. The chic lighting throws shadows over Baekhyun’s rounded features and rippling skin. It’s so, _so_ pretty. He can’t imagine what he looks like in total darkness— and not a single inappropriate thing comes to mind when he imagines Baekhyun in a dark room. Not _one_. That would be gross on so many levels. For one thing, they work together, and for another—

“I look up to you, you know? So it would be weird if we... if I...” He silently thanks the gods for giving him these few hours with Baekhyun, and promises that it will only take _one_ sick day for him to recover enough to walk across the scare floor without reducing to a greenish puddle of ick. “I wouldn’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you, or getting carried away with idolization fantasies, or something. So, thanks, but...”

Baekhyun blinks at him, the grin smoothing away from his features. Yeah, this evening was nice while it lasted. Taeyong’s made peace with the idea of only seeing Baekhyun from afar, of only catching snippets of Baekhyun’s bubbly voice as he speaks with someone else, of only being remembered as the weird, slimy dude Baekhyun went on a date with once. He has. _Really._ It’s fine.

“You look up to me?”

Taeyong also blinks at him, but only for a moment, before his eyebrows furrow and his jaw drops.

“Yes? Obviously? You’re _Baekhyun_.”

“You’re _Taeyong_ ,” Baekhyun replies, mimicking Taeyong’s surprise.

Clattering plates. Wafting scents. Taeyong leans forward, drowning in disbelief.

“You’ve been the top scarer since, like, _forever_ and everybody loves you and you seem so... friendly even though you’re _you?_ And we’re in totally different social spheres, or whatever, so aside from that, you’re an _amazing_ scarer who— You— I just think that there’s something kinda magnetic about the way you work—”

The sound of one of Taeyong’s antennae hitting the lamp hanging overhead cuts him short. His heart flutters in his throat. His goopy hands soak through his napkin. He knows he’s said way too much, proved himself to be a total Baekhyun-obsessed weirdo, as if that were even still up to question. Baekhyun’s eyebrows shoot straight up to his hairline.

“Do you... really?” Baekhyun — _Baekhyun_ — clears his throat and fiddles with his chopsticks. When his eyes find Taeyong’s, they’re soft. _Baekhyun_ is _flustered_. “You’re too nice, but that shouldn’t surprise me. When you helped me out with those scream canisters, you flew off with way more than your fair share, and—”

“You remember that?”

“Yeah, of course.” Baekhyun laughs. Easy and rich. “You took so many canisters that I was worried your little wings were gonna fall off. You were so cute, though— all happy to help and eager to please.”

The air nestled around their table suddenly gets a lot warmer, a lot thicker. Taeyong isn’t sure what to do, what to say to alleviate this tension. His wings go rigid. It occurs to him that he might not want to alleviate the tension at all.

“I do.” Taeyong swallows, the look Baekhyun gives him nesting within his chest. Slowly, he continues, “Wanna go to your place, I mean.”

Baekhyun’s throat bobs. Like he’s swallowing down each of Taeyong’s words, too. Like they’re just as rich and heavy as the air that Taeyong’s gulping down. His chopsticks clatter against his plate.

“Grab your coat.”

Taeyong’s wings buzz against his spine.

* * *

The problem with Baekhyun isn’t just that he makes Taeyong’s hands slimier by the second— if it were that simple, Taeyong would only have to worry about locating the nearest tissue box. The problem is that Baekhyun makes Taeyong’s _insides_ reduce down to greenish ooze. A biological impossibility, of course, but Taeyong wouldn’t put it past his crush-fueled brain to defy all known laws of monster biology and scramble his organs into Baekhyun-related mush. 

Everything feels sticky and warm and slow. His thoughts struggle to emerge from the bubbling vats of _feeling_ inside himself. His words come out as wet, desperate noises. Simply put: he’s a _mess_.

“Is that okay?”

Baekhyun’s squiggly pupils narrow around Taeyong’s shuddering, gaping expression. He crowded him against the front door the moment they kicked their shoes off, but his cool hands are so achingly _gentle_ on Taeyong’s shoulders. Taeyong’s antennae twitch, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

“Is what okay?” he mumbles. His eyes keep sliding down to Baekhyun’s mouth, his colorful lips, his white teeth.

“I...” Baekhyun laughs lightly, and the tiny puff of air bursts on Taeyong’s skin like fireworks. Baekhyun, continues, “I asked if I could kiss you.”

Taeyong’s antennae flicker wildly with the response of _Yes, yes. Obviously. Yes. You can sprinkle salt all over me and serve me up for dinner, if you want. I’m yours_. He clears his throat.

“Please?”

It’s tough to see in the dim entryway lighting, but Taeyong catches the roses and peaches blooming on Baekhyun’s skin as he leans forward. Smiling as he cups Taeyong’s chin. Breathing as he presses his lips to Taeyong’s. Light and sweet, a trickle of warm honey against his mouth.

Excitement bursts through Taeyong’s wings, unfurling them _just_ enough for one good _push_ forward. Taeyong’s hands fly to Baekhyun’s waist for balance as the kiss deepens through no will of his own— it’s the _insect_ bits of his brain that make him lick into Baekhyun’s mouth, tongue sliding hotly against Baekhyun’s until it finds the short, stocky tentacles at the base of Baekhyun’s tongue. 

He knows the tentacles are a key part of Baekhyun’s famed scare routine —that’s what’s printed on his Scare Card, anyways— but “starstruck” isn’t exactly the word that Taeyong would use to describe the feeling of getting exclusive access to the squirming things. Needy. _Needy_ is the word he’d use. He moans into Baekhyun’s mouth, and Baekhyun _whimpers_.

“They’re _sensitive_ ,” Baekhyun gasps. His jaw drops slightly, giving Taeyong a better view of the tentacles, tiny and fat and cast in the same warbling pinks as the skin on Baekhyun’s face.

On instinct, Taeyong’s mouth parts around an apology, but Baekhyun quickly silences him with a palm laid against his cheek.

“No, none of that. You’re doing just fine. I...” Baekhyun swallows, shimmery blue bleeding into his cheeks. “I like this, and I wanna continue _this_ , but I’d prefer to do that somewhere a bit farther from my shoe closet.”

Taeyong’s antennae twitch with the effort to keep his pleas inside his mouth, to project a normal level of eagerness. He nods, hands clenched at his sides. He feels a pang of shame as he notices the slime stains on Baekhyun’s shirt. Baekhyun clicks his tongue at his grimace.

“I _just_ said that I liked this; that includes _you_.” There’s force to his voice, but nothing mean. It’s just... _certainty_. Certainty about how Taeyong makes him feel. Baekhyun dons a teasing smile. “C’mon, let’s see just how wet and slimy I can make you, hm?”

Taeyong nods— nods _eagerly_. Baekhyun sheds his stained shirt and it stays balled at his one side —Taeyong scampers along at his other side like, well, a bug— until they reach the hamper just inside his bedroom door. Taeyong is sure that, if he’d been paying attention to anything other than Baekhyun this whole time, he’d find the rest of the apartment as neat as the act of taking care to deposit your shirt in the hamper before sex suggests.

“Quit staring at me like that!” Baekhyun laughs and _reaches for his belt_. “It’ll go to my head.”

“Sorry, you’re just so... hot?” Taeyong gulps, fighting every urge to cling to Baekhyun’s chest. “Can I undress you?”

Baekhyun’s eyes widen, but melt just before Taeyong can begin to worry that he said something wrong. He stretches his arms outward, _welcoming_ Taeyong, and Taeyong’s urges burst forward. Teeth tugging at his lip, he splays his fingers over Baekhyun’s chest. Feather light. Trailing as little ooze as possible as they skate down to his hips. He’s smooth and corded and—

“ _Perfect_ ,” Taeyong hums, jaw clenching around his ridiculously reverent tone.

“I should take you with me everywhere I go. A little sprinkle of confidence whenever I need.” 

Taeyong’s antennae straighten around the almost _romantic_ implications there. His damp fingers slip over Baekhyun’s belt buckle a bit, but he musters enough inner strength to tune out Baekhyun’s pleased hums to concentrate for the few seconds it takes to remove the belt and slide his pants off. Over his soft thighs, his thick calves. The nice material —probably something expensive, probably something classy— pools around his ankles. With the last of that inner strength, Taeyong directs his eyes to the elastic waistband hugging Baekhyun’s skin.

“Pants in the hamper first, please,” Baekhyun murmurs, eyes raking over Taeyong’s form. Warmth slides down Taeyong’s throat, puddling in his core. Yes. He can do that. Easy. 

Palms sticky, he gathers up Baekhyun’s discarded pants, and tries not to look up into Baekhyun’s dark, pleased eyes every two seconds as he finishes the task. He stands a bit awkwardly by the hamper, hands now empty. Baekhyun’s cheeks puff around a wide smile.

“Very good,” Baekhyun says. Sincere, certain.

Taeyong’s head tilts to the side. His antennae droop. He smiles right back, just as wide.

“We should move to the bed, right?” he asks, insect brain itching to touch Baekhyun again.

“That’s right.” Baekhyun laughs lightly. He motions for Taeyong to move, but Taeyong already is— maybe it’s rude to scurry further into Baekhyun’s bedroom before he’s even invited to, but the winks of gold appearing in Baekhyun’s face quicken his steps.

He perches on the edge of the bed —neatly made in slate grays, just as all that hamper business would suggest— and clutches at his thighs. Almost immediately, the cool, wet nervousness seeps into his jeans. He grits his teeth. He can’t just calm down —he’s sitting on _Baekhyun’s_ bed— and he can’t just fly away —where a mental map of Baekhyun’s apartment might be, images of shirtless Baekhyun lie instead— so _what_ is he supposed to do? Ask for a towel with a hearty, self-deprecating chuckle?

“You okay?”

Taeyong opens his eyes —he didn’t even realize that he’d scrunched them shut— to find Baekhyun kneeling before him, bare thighs folded against his calves and face rippling with muted blues. Taeyong sucks in a deep breath.

“Are you sure this is fine? You don’t feel like you’re...”

“Like I’m what?” Baekhyun lays a gentle hand over one of Taeyong’s own. His eyes get droopier, softer as Taeyong tenses.

“I don’t know... doing me a favor? Because I look up to you, and all that.”

Baekhyun frowns. It’s disorienting, _jarring_ to receive something other than laughter or encouragement from Baekhyun. Taeyong holds his breath.

“I’m not doing anyone any favors. _I_ want this. _Me_.” A smile smooths over the frown as Taeyong visibly relaxes. “Baekhyun, who’s just a person —though, admittedly, a person who’s much sexier and funnier and scarier than the general public— wants _you_.”

“Me.”

“ _You_ , Taeyong. Who’s _definitely_ also much sexier and funnier and scarier than the general public.”

Taeyong’s brows furrow. Baekhyun rests his chin on one of his knees, eyes shining up at him, and Taeyong wonders if this has all been some elaborate sex dream, following a drunken night spent ranting and raving about Baekhyun to Ten. It’s happened before. He’s dreamt up much worse.

“You think I’m all of those things?”

“Do you really think that _I_ would be caught dead in Harryhausen’s with someone who wasn’t at _least_ as sexy and funny as I am?” Baekhyun rolls his eyes, and laughter bubbles in Taeyong’s chest. “Plus, I have your Scare Card. I know how good you are with the squeamish kids.”

“ _You_ have _my_ Scare Card—”

Baekhyun cuts Taeyong’s disbelief off by reaching up and tugging at his waistband, to which Taeyong’s insect brain automatically responds with a gasp and lifted hips. Eager, _eager_ to move the process along. To keep Baekhyun’s squiggly pupils on him.

Baekhyun urges him out of his shirt, too, and tosses his clothing aside without a glance. Taeyong would’ve folded his things and set them in the hamper— would’ve done Baekhyun’s whole entire load of laundry, if he had been asked to, but Baekhyun is much more focused on Taeyong than the state of his bedroom. Open gazes. Whispery touches. Quiet compliments. His overwhelming earnesty makes Taeyong’s insides gooey.

“Can I suck your dick?”

Taeyong’s coherent reply got lost somewhere between having himself fully exposed to the open air and the aforementioned raised brow. He makes a needy, gargling sort of noise at the back of his throat and nods.

Baekhyun's nimble fingers wrap around the base of Taeyong’s dick. The other hand rests firmly against his thigh. Holding him in place or reassuring him or _both_. Taeyong exhales deeply, antennae like needles atop his head.

“You’re not scared to be with a guy who’s got tentacles in his mouth?”

Baekhyun’s head is between his legs, now, and Taeyong is plunged into a thick sense of _wonder_ . Baekhyun’s so _pretty_. Gentle, tiny features set in a colorful, fluid face. Gazing _up_ at Taeyong, waiting for his reply. Taeyong balls his wet hands into fists against the neatly tucked sheets.

“I once dated someone with all kinds of tentacle limbs. Snake hair, too. _She_ scared me,” he replies, with an immediate pang of regret. Maybe he’s sharing too much— a simple ‘no’ would have been enough.

“Scarier than me?” Baekhyun pouts. _Pouts_. Right above the swollen head of Taeyong’s dick.

“No, _no_. Never. You’re, like, _untouchable_ and she isn’t a scarer. She works at reception, and—” 

Baekhyun snips his babbling by flattening his tongue beneath the head of his dick. He smiles at Taeyong’s breathless curse. Stretches his mouth open, _open_ , until Taeyong can see every last one of the colorful little tentacles wiggling around inside his mouth. It isn’t scary, it doesn’t make Taeyong want to flee. Not at _all_. 

Taeyong gulps and reaches for Baekhyun with his greenish, sticky palms. Baekhyun’s encouraging noise stretches his tongue further over the heated skin of his cock. Taeyong tangles his fingers in Baekhyun’s hair, his own wince at how his hands _slip_ over his scalp muffled by Baekhyun’s groan at the same thing. An _impossibly_ eager response to something so weird. He closes his lips around Taeyong’s dick— _those_ lips around _Taeyong’s_ dick. Taeyong shudders. Slick, gross urgency builds beneath his skin. 

He moans. Through no will of his own — _absolutely_ none, not even a bit, _just_ buggish instinct— he guides Baekhyun’s head closer, until there are delicate fingers pressing into his thighs and tentacles tickling at his length. The stubby little things lap at his precome, dance over his veiny underside. Taeyong can’t help but wonder what color they are now, if they match the deep aquamarine pooling in Baekhyun’s face, if they look pretty against his dick’s ruddy skin.

“You’re— This— It’s—” Taeyong’s tongue trips over the embarrassing, endless, _embarrassingly endless_ list of praises he has for Baekhyun and his goddamn _mouth_. 

He looks _beautiful_ around Taeyong’s dick, vibrant and attentive. This can’t be real. It’s a wet dream. Taeyong’s having another alcohol-induced wet dream, and he’s moments from waking up to Ten’s unamused stare and a few snide remarks about Taeyong’s tentacle sleep talk. Baekhyun hollows his cheeks, and the tentacles _press_ into his length. Taeyong whimpers.

“You’re _unreal._ ”

Baekhyun slides off of his —very hard, very wet— dick. The _pop_ warms Taeyong's cheeks and tenses his hands on Baekhyun’s head.

“You look so, _so_ pretty,” Baekhyun sighs. Dreamy, dreamily. 

Taeyong bites his tongue, something painful worming around in all the liquid desire held inside his stomach. Baekhyun leans back a bit, revealing that his hair has gone _damp_ and _stringy_ in Taeyong’s hold, but before the mortification can completely unfurl Taeyong’s wings, Baekhyun opens his mouth.

“Come on my face?”

Taeyong gulps down hot air. Eyes unfocused, taking in more of his unfamiliar surroundings. Sheer curtains sway in the A/C. A ticking clock and an empty trinket tray sit atop his nightstand. Taeyong’s antennae flutter. He’s aching and gasping and oozing in _Baekhyun’s_ tidy, dim room.

Baekhyun runs a hand through his hair, and Taeyong fully expects him to cringe at all the slime stuck in there, at all the Taeyong-induced grossness. But he _moans_.

“God, you’re hot,” he gasps and gazes down at his hands, a thin green film on his hands. “I’ve never been with someone like you. I don’t— you’re unlike anyone else Taeyong.”

Baekhyun’s face is like the deep, calm sea and Taeyong is all too happy to drown in it. His brain quiets, his antennae droop and shiver. One slick hand wraps around his cock, gentle strokes getting more and more urgent as Baekhyun beams at him. Spreading warmth and spreading green.

“You’re doing so good, Taeyong. Holy _shit._ I wish you could see yourself. I wish...” He swallows thickly, his smile fading into disbelief, while that deep blue remains. Every last one of Taeyong’s nerves _tighten_. Baekhyun whispers, “You’re _perfect_. Give in.”

Taeyong comes. Wings spread and lips parted. Seeing only Baekhyun, only his come stringing over his soft features. The cloudy threads absorb the rippling blue of Baekhyun’s face. It looks like tears, it looks like sapphires. Taeyong holds his breath. 

“How...?” he sobs uselessly, body sagging. He’d like to lay down. He’d like to catch his breath. But he _can’t_ look away from Baekhyun. _Baekhyun_ who looks like _that_ covered in Taeyong’s fucking _semen_.

“You’re gonna make my head blow up like a balloon, I swear.” Baekhyun giggles, but his voice is thick with _need_.

“Please, come here. Let me help you. Please? Please.”

“You want to? You want to help _the_ Baekhyun come?”

For the life of him, Taeyong can’t figure out where Baekhyun gets the self-control to keep that teasing lilt to his voice because Taeyong can hardly _speak_ at this point, let alone crack a joke. Not that there’s anything funny about the darkness in Baekhyun’s eyes, or that Taeyong’s eager nod is a joke, either. Of course not. This is _serious_ , this is really—

Baekhyun stretches upwards with a hand on either side of Taeyong to get better access at his mouth. And Taeyong _giggles_ into the kiss, giddy disbelief bubbling out over his little tentacles. Baekhyun smiles, _smiles_. Kisses him deeply, the quick teeth and attentive tongue never straying from Taeyong’s wanting mouth, even as Baekhyun rises. 

Taeyong falls to his back, Baekhyun crawling over him to settle lightly against his hips. Taeyong shudders. His spent dick is still sensitive, his fragile wings are still outstretched beneath him.

“Can I finger you?” Taeyong whispers. His antennae flicker with surprise, but he feels... _certain_. 

“ _Fuck_. Yes, yes.” Baekhyun sits up. The squirming tentacles in his panting mouth twinkle with the same gold that’s sinking into his cheeks. Taeyong hardly breathes as Baekhyun shirks his underwear and tosses it messily aside. He’s rushing. He’s eager.

 _“Please,”_ Taeyong whimpers, not quite sure what he’s begging for. Without thinking, he reaches for Baekhyun’s soft thighs, and is met with the immediate _squelch_ of his hands on Baekhyun.

But the nervousness doesn’t even register with his mind. There’s no room for it in the air between them, already so weighed down by Baekhyun’s responding moan. Like a tidal wave. Like a song.

“ _Please_ , Baekhyun.”

“I’m not gonna last long. I really, _really_ want those fingers inside me.” Baekhyun loosely wraps one hand around his dick —flushed and heavy and prettier than anything in Taeyong’s wildest dreams— and cards the other one through Taeyong’s hair. Taeyong gasps weakly at the touch. Gasps _loudly_ once he realizes a few threads of come are still visible on Baekhyun’s excited face, sparkling gold.

“I can’t believe this— can’t believe _you_.”

“Believe me. Believe me, Yongie.” The nickname — _Baekhyun’s_ just given him a _nickname_ — pitches with desperation at the end because Taeyong’s goopy, gross, green fingers slide easily to his hole. It should _definitely_ be an awfully cool and damp sensation, but Baekhyun’s eyes are so _dark_ beneath all of his stringy hair. Squiggly pupils tightening around Taeyong’s adoration.

He slips a finger into Baekhyun, the wet noise met with a beautiful moan. Who the fuck moans _beautifully?_ Who the fuck _sparkles_ with pleasure?

“You’re so good for me. You _are_.”

Taeyong pets at Baekhyun’s warm walls. He receives him _so_ well, and welcomes each marveling, gentle touch. Taeyong adds another finger. His antennae _curl_. Baekhyun scrunches his eyes shut, while his hand tenderly cups Taeyong’s cheek. He strokes himself with quick, tight motions, not at all keeping tune with Taeyong’s careful, curious fingers.

Heat sparks and fizzles in Taeyong’s chest. The gold is being overtaken by a whole coral reef’s worth of color. Taeyong thinks he might be babbling, might be filling the room with his embarrassing praises. But all he really hears is the slippery noises of his fingers inside Baekhyun and the warm air that hisses through Baekhyun’s teeth.

Baekhyun comes with a high-pitched shout, immediately collapsing into Taeyong’s embrace. Taeyong holds onto him for dear life, strokes his shuddering back, tries his best to breathe through the overwhelming sense of Baekhyun’s satisfaction. His wings hum between him and the mattress, and his antennae _tap, tap, tap_ at Baekhyun’s head in the crook of Taeyong’s neck. 

But Taeyong’s mind is so quiet. He just lays beneath Baekhyun’s warmth, easy laughter bubbling beneath his tongue. Baekhyun rises just enough to make eye contact, the array of colors on his face lulled with pastel waves. He reaches up to twirl one of Taeyong’s antennae around his fingers. Thoughtful. Gentle. 

“Was it good for you?” he breathes, a smile inching into his tired features.

“I’ve had better.”

Baekhyun squawks and pushes Taeyong into the mattress. Laughter balloons in Taeyong’s chest, makes him soar up and up.

“It was you who’d have the big head all along! I should’ve known...” Heaving a sigh, Baekhyun rolls to lay beside Taeyong. 

Taeyong feels Baekhyun’s eyes drag over his bare, giggling form. Baekhyun interlaces his fingers with Taeyong’s goopy ones.

“Thanks,” Taeyong whispers.

“For what?”

Baekhyun’s sleepy fingers are so gentle with his hands. Like glass, like diamonds, like he’s... _precious_. Taeyong’s antennae go a bit wild at the thoughts Taeyong is too scared to form, at the feelings that freely ooze out of his palms.

“For being yourself, I guess.”

“Who else would I be, Yongie?” Baekhyun murmurs, and the words steady Taeyong’s breath.

**Author's Note:**

> cut scene: back at the scare floor monday morning ten is like "grab some tissues bro it's *~*him*~*" n then taeyong openly waves w his slimy hands <3 
> 
> i rlly hope this was a fun read !! kudos n comments r the scare to my canister, the harry to my hausen, the mike to my sully <33
> 
> u can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/showmeurteef) or [cc](https://curiouscat.me/showmeurteef)


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